


the commander & other prompts

by breakingfiction



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 10:22:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17558594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakingfiction/pseuds/breakingfiction
Summary: Collection of random Dragon Age: Inquisition drabbles. Inquisitor/Cullen pairing.





	the commander & other prompts

**Author's Note:**

> The following conversation at the War table inspired me to write this piece between the Inquisitor and Cullen (because I just loooove him, but he kind of annoyed me here lol)
> 
> Josephine: A pity about Ser Michel.  
> Cullen: Pity!? The circumstances surrounding his death are a stain on this Inquisition.  
> Josephine: The situation is… complicated.

My advisers leave the war room quickly, one after the other. Cassandra is the last to go, throwing a supportive glance over her shoulder at me before she shuts the heavy door behind them with a  _thump._  
  
I’m tempted to let out an exhausted sigh, but I keep my composure. Shoulders rigid, back straight. Playing the part I must. Tension hangs in the air, so thick you could cut it with a knife.    
  
His amber eyes are hard, unfaltering. I know he’s mad,  _furious_  even, but I won’t back down. My eyes meet his with an equal stubbornness and the up-tilt of my chin.   
  
I stand by my decision, no matter the consequences. This so called offence to the Inquisition.    
  
My deal with the desire demon, Ishmael.   
  
Cullen spreads his hands on the war table in front of him, leaning his weight forward, his deep voice cutting through the room like the sharpest edge of a blade.   
  
“You bargained with a demon. And  _for what?”_  His voice is tight, hard, like flint against my skin. But I do not flinch. I mustn’t.  
  
 _“Power?”_  
  
I take a deep breath in through my nose, just once, before my stony eyes settle on him with deliberate authority.   
  
“I didn’t have a choice. We were outnumbered,” My voice is surprisingly steady, devoid of the emotional torrent inside of me. It surprises me further how good I’m becoming at this. “We would not have won that fight.”  
  
His lips curl in disgust, and I almost recoil at the way he narrows his eyes at me.  _Almost_. You would never think that the morning before I set out to Emprise du Lion I was in his arms, dozing sleepily between lazy kisses and lovely whispers after a long night of passion and pleasure.   
  
There’s certainly no sign of that affection between us now.   
  
Suledin Fortress was a disaster. We had not expected the numbers we would encounter there, nor the shear strength of the Red Templars. The few of us who escaped with our lives were the lucky ones.  
  
 _Not everyone got that chance._  
  
“Better to fall in the name of honor then succeed through deceit and betrayal,” Cullen growls and turns his back on me, his crimson pauldrons hiding his face from sight.   
  
My jaw flexes against clenched teeth. Anger peeling off of me in waves of red, hot fury. How dare he?  _How fucking dare he…_  
  
I’m tempted to spit something horrid at him. To remind him of the Templars and the Circle and the Mages they destroyed. But I hold my tongue. Even in my anger, I know there’s no use in bringing up old wounds to win a new fight.  
  
I had asked him to be honest with me. I know he would not be saying these things if I hadn’t, but still… this is not what I was expecting from the Commander.   
  
From  _my_  Commander.   
  
“Is that what you really think?” I ask instead, my tongue coated in a venom so bitter I see him shudder. “I should have let my friends  _die_ to save the Inquisition some reputation?”  
  
“That’s not what I-”   
  
“Then what?”  
  
My voice breaks a little on the words, betraying my emotion, and when he doesn’t say anything in return my frayed temper snaps completely. It takes only a heated swipe of my hand to send metal pieces splaying over the war table between us. It’s enough to have him turning back to me, his brows dipped in annoyance.   
  
“You put this entire organisation in jeopardy. If the people knew about this… about you making deals with demons! _Maker preserve me_ … they’d never put their faith in the Inquisition again.”  
  
I know what he’s saying. I’m not stupid enough to think that what I did was without consequence. Poor Ser Michel was proof enough of that.  
  
But when I think of my companions faces.  _Dorian, Sera, Cassandra_. The cost was too high not to.   
  
“You know what Cullen, you weren’t there,” My throat is tight, and the words don’t come out as steady as they did before. “You don’t have a right to judge me.”  
  
He looks at me again, finally, though my patience has well and truly frayed. This conversation is over, whether he likes it or not.   
  
“You’re  _excused_ , Commander.”  
  
“Don’t do that,” He says softly, and I swear his eyes are gentler. But I’m too far seeped in my own anger to care.  
  
 _“Leave.”_  
  
He hesitates for only a moment before he does so. When he brushes past me the scent of him hits me.  _Elderflower and oakmoss_. I remember being tangled up in sheets that smelled just like it. I open my mouth once more before he leaves, feeling him stop and tense just behind me at the sound of my voice.   
  
“These people are my family. I would not sacrifice them. Not even for Corypheus himself.”  
  
When he exits the war room, the door slams so hard behind him it rattles the hinges.   
  
Shattered and numb, I wait a few minutes until I know he’ll be close to his tower, before I leave too. I ignore my Ambassadors curious eyes on me when I march through her office. It doesn’t take much of an effort to slip past the chevaliers in the hall. With a face like thunder, they know to keep a safe distance from me.   
  
When I reach the comfort and solitude of my bed chamber, it barely takes a minute before I bury myself under my bed covers and fall apart.   
  
*  
  
Standing on one of the beautiful balconies that borders my rooms, I gaze out over the peaceful strength of the mountains. The same mountains that have protected Skyhold for decades, and continue to serve the Inquisition as our own silent guardian.   
  
When I hear his heavy footsteps behind me, my shoulders tense, and the peace of the moment shatters like glass.   
  
“I spoke with Dorian.”  
  
My jaw aches from clenching so tight, my eyes swollen and tired. If I decided to look at the Commander, I’m sure he’d see the tear tracks staining my ruddy face. As it is, I can’t bring my eyes to meet his.   
  
So I say nothing. Dorian is my closest friend in this place, and he was there when… when we found Ser Michels body. He too knew it was the cost we had to pay. He would not have taken Cullen’s words any better then I had.   
  
I don’t see it, but I know he rubs the back of his head. A nervous habit. One I would find adorable, under normal circumstances.   
  
“Inquisitor,  _please.._.”  
  
I turn my head a little, just enough for him to hear my voice, clear and strong, despite everything. “Inquisitor now, is it?”   
  
He shakes his head, as if he would shake his thoughts right out of it. When he speaks next, his voice is quiet…  _broken._  
  
“I should have been happy the Maker saw fit to bring you back to me.”  
  
That line has my facade faltering, my walls breaking. When I finally turn to look at him, his amber eyes no longer hold the same rage and disappointment they did before. Instead, they almost look guilty.   
  
“Sometimes I forget myself… I’m used to putting everything before my own happiness,” He says softly, his face so distraught my heart clenches in my chest.  "I was out of line.“  
  
In an instant he’s on his knees in front of me, the armor he wears everywhere, even in the hold, clunking against the marble tiles. He takes my hand in his, pressing it to his mouth. His breath is warm against my skin when he whispers.   
  
 _"Forgive me.”_  
  
Unable to harden myself against him any longer, I find myself on my knees with him. I take his face between my hands, forcing him to look at me.  
  
"You were right, Cullen. It was a stupid thing to do. But stupid or not, I would not risk them. Not when I knew what we had to lose.”   
  
He covers my hand with one of his own, dwarfing it’s size with his. His skin is so warm.  _It’s always warm._  
  
“I know. And that is why they love you.”  
  
Amber eyes snap to mine, and his calloused fingers under my chin are so gentle, I all but melt into his touch.   
  
“That is why I love you.”  
  
 _Andraste save me…_  
  
Leaning forward, so slowly, he catches my lips with his and I break under his touch. His fingers thread through my hair, more confident now that he knows I won’t refuse him. My body comes alive with his kiss, letting it consume every inch of me.   
  
When he pulls back a little, his forehead resting against mine and a satisfied smile quirking his lips, I let out a small, breathy laugh, feeling the familiar stroke of heat flush my cheeks.   
  
“How could I stay mad at you now?” 


End file.
